Autobiography of Mark Rutherford, Edited by his friend Reuben Shapcott by Mark Rutherford
page 79 of 137 (57%)
page 79 of 137 (57%)
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my mind attuned in that direction I entered the chapel. I hoped to
hear something of that Rock of Ages in which, as the poet sings, we shall wish to hide ourselves in years to come. But, sir, a young man, evidently a young man, occupied the pulpit, and great was my grief to find that the tainted flood of human philosophy had rolled through the town and was withering the truth as it is in Christ Jesus. Years ago that pulpit sent forth no uncertain sound, and the glorious gospel was proclaimed there--not a GERMAN GOSPEL, sir--of our depravity and our salvation through Christ Jesus. Sir, I should like to know what the dear departed who endowed that chapel, and are asleep in the Lord in that burying-ground, would say if they were to rise from their graves and sit in those pews again and hear what I heard--a sermon which might have been a week-day lecture. Sir, as I was passing through the town, I could not feel that I had done my duty without announcing to you the fact as above stated, and had not raised a humble warning from - Sir, Yours truly, "A CHRISTIAN TRAVELLER." Notwithstanding the transparent artifice of the last paragraph, there was no doubt that the author of this precious production was Mr. Snale, and I at once determined to tax him with it. On the Monday morning I called on him, and found him in his shop. "Mr. Snale," I said, "I have a word or two to say to you." "Certainly, sir. What a lovely day it is! I hope you are very well, sir. Will you come upstairs?" |
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